My phone buzzes again.
Sawyer:
Wear something warm.
Warm?
My pulse does a small, ridiculous thing in my chest. I glance at the framed newspaper one more time. I trust him. If he tells me to wear something warm, then I should listen.
“Well, if you guys don’t mind, I’m going to run home to change before I meet Sawyer. Lock up in twenty?” I ask Charlie.
He smiles. “Already ahead of you.”
I grab my purse, kiss Theo’s head and head out the door. For the first time in a very long time, walking toward the unknown doesn’t feel like falling.
It feels like an adventure.
The address Sawyersent me steers me to an old practice rink that the Washington Capitals used years ago that’s a community rink these days. It’s a place where Sawyer takes Theo when he needs extra time on the ice, because “real players practice anywhere.” It’s tucked behind the Alexandria Rec Center, and the other thing I can remember about it is that it’s draped inside with the string lights that only work when they feel like it.
When I pull into the lot, I notice it’s practically empty, and my pulse starts doing that fast-slow thing again. I shake it off because Sawyer is the kind of man who likes to whip out a huge surprise every couple of weeks to take my breath away. It’s super cute and sweet, and I’m pretty sure it’s what he’s doing tonight. Although how he’ll ever top off having a masseuse show up at my place the day after we did end of year inventory at the plant shop is still a mystery to me.
I enter the building to find it oddly quiet. The number of cars in the lot made me think at least one person, maybe two, would be around, but I don’t see any employees. None at all.
But I do see Sawyer.
He’s standing at center ice in a Dominion hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets like that will somehow disguise the fact that he’s visibly nervous. I mean, geez, I can even tell from here he’s looking a little worried.
“Sawyer?” I call out, teasing. “If this is about the oven, I forgive you.”
“You’re funny.” He huffs a laugh as he pushes his fingers through his hair. “No, this is not about the oven.”
“Okay,” I zip up my winter jacket, grateful I’d gone home to get it before coming. “You look freaked out. Are you okay?”
“Yes…and no,” he says, laughing. “Do you remember the first time I brought Theo here?”
I nod. “You nearly broke your ankle trying to impress him.”
“Hey, I was in complete control.”
“Sure you were,” I grin.
His smile fades into something steadier.
“That night he told me he wanted to play hockey because it made him feel strong.” He swallows. “Brave. He also felt brave and liked the fact that if he joins a team, he automatically gets a ‘whole lot of new friends that will be like my family.’ Which is a great reason, if you ask me, to want to play the sport.”
My chest aches in the best way. “Well, that’s my boy.”
“Being on a team, it teaches you about family. I mean, obviously family taught me a lot—look at my relationship with my own cousin—but the penny dropped for me when I started playing hockey. Loyalty. Camaraderie. Support. A steady, calm heartbeat that’s there making it possible for me to do anything I put my mind to.”
He skates backward slowly…and that’s when I see it written faintly across the ice in careful skate marks:
Team Gianelli + Team Stockton = Will you marry me?
My hand flies to my mouth, which is parched suddenly. Before I can even process it, the bench door swings open and Theo steps onto the ice.
He’s bundled up, helmet slightly crooked, as he makes his way to Sawyer’s side like this is the most normal thing in the world.
He’s holding something, it’s small. A tiny little box. He skates toward the gate and holds it up to me.
